A Fish Out of Water
by WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: Miners are in danger, and rescue comes from the last person you would expect. But of course things are never straight forward for International Rescue.
1. Chapter 1

_**This one came to me as the Tots (they're not really tots. but you know what I mean) were watching Ghost Ship - John out on a rescue in his element. Then I started to wonder what it would be like if he wasn't in his element, and well here we are. I'm once again writing to try and concentrate on other things for five minutes at a time!**_

 _ **And yes, it's John again 'cos it seems that he is my guy!**_

* * *

International Rescue was offline. Not officially and they hadn't made their current status widely known, but they hadn't gone on a rescue for the last five days. There had been calls, but John had skilfully and subtly deflected these to other aid agencies, while offering his own expertise and support. But the island had been grounded.

They weren't sure who to blame and it could have been anyone. One week ago Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan had all been sent to South America to help evacuate the hundreds of people stranded by flash floods. Twenty four hours later everyone on the island was infected.

Flu. Not a head cold or a chest infection, they had all come down with a strain of influenza. They had headaches, fever, chills, aches and pains. The four brothers had been confined to bed for two days – and it was an indication of how ill the were that no-one had put up a fight as they were overcome with fatigue and nausea. Kayo, Brains and Grandma counted themselves lucky that they had been visiting Lady Penelope at the time, and had imposed a quarantine on Tracy island for at least another week until the most infectious stage had passed.

Now the four brothers could stay awake for more than thirty minutes at a time, but they were still lethargic and dizzy. They had made a unanimous and silent decision to decamp from their respective bedrooms to the main room: making a mountain of blankets and pillows in which they dozed or watched tv. Luckily MAX was on hand – as he had been for throughout their illness – to bring them food, drinks, medication, cooling flannels or anything else that might get them back on their feet as quickly as possible.

So John - safe from infection up on Thunderbird 5 - diverted calls while the others were incapable of walking never mind flying. Until a call came that he couldn't pass to anyone else.

"Hey guys, how is everyone feeling?" John appeared in holographic form, projected from his portrait.

"I think I'm dying" came a muffled moan from the corner of the couch that housed Gordon.

"I think I'm already dead."

"You always have to go one better don't you Alan."

"Don't argue guys, I don't have the energy to split you two up." Virgil sounded weary – whether from the eternal struggles of trying to manage younger brothers or from the illness it was difficult to tell.

"But my head hurts and my vision is all blurry." Gordon groaned.

"You're making _my_ head hurt, go jump in the pool or something." Alan said with a smirk.

" _You_ go jump in the pool." Gordon returned.

"No one's jumping anywhere. I might throw you both in though." Virgil had clearly had enough, but by interrupting had opened himself up to being dragged into the argument.

"Yeah, like you could lift either of us right now, let alone both of us."

While the others had been indulging in good natured bickering Scott had been paying attention to John. He watched John as he watched their brothers – taking in the feverish flush still on their cheeks, how they were wrapped up in cocoons of bedding and noting the amount of empty pill packets strewn on the floor – all signs that they were far from well. The insults being thrown back and forth were not a symptom of illness: it was an unwritten rule that every Tracy had to give as good as he got and they all liked to have the last word.

"Somehow I sense that wasn't the answer you were looking for." Scott asked, noting the frown and look of resignation on the space-monitor.

"No, not really. It's what I was expecting, but not what I was hoping for." John's tone cut through the other conversation in the room and all four brothers now started to pay attention. "We have a situation and you're not going to like my solution."

John gave the briefing: a mine in central Africa had collapsed following a massive earthquake in the area. There were sixteen miners trapped more than ten miles into the winding maze-like tunnels that had been excavated in the previous eighteen months. The mining company had some of the best equipment in the world, but despite that it would take nearly three days to get to the stranded, and they would be out of air and water before then. That was without the prospect of further earthquakes collapsing the tunnels completely or any serious injuries.

"And why can they not get to them for three days?" Scott asked.

"Do you really want a lesson in geology right now?' There was a muttered 'noooo' from Gordon. "Because I can give you a lecture if you like. Or you could trust me that their equipment is not going to get there in time. We have the best equipment in the world and we can get them out in twelve hours."

"Ok then" Scott sighed and looked at his brother's pale faces and reluctantly said "I suppose we had better get on the way."

"Ermm.. no Scott, you guys are not going anywhere."

"What? I thought you just said..."

"I did, but not you. International Rescue are the only ones that can help, and right now international rescue is me."

"You?" Not one voice but four exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. Thanks for sounding so shocked by the way, a great vote of confidence right there." John crossed his arms looking slightly offended.

"We're not doubting you John" Scott stood up, trying to get some control of the situation back, but he was finding thinking tricky. "But you aren't the most experienced in this area. We need you up there, doing what you do best, while we go and do what we do best."

It was unfortunate for him that at that moment a wave of dizzyness hit and he sat heavily back down.

'Yeah, right. You can't stand up right now, how are you going to manage a two hour flight, let alone a rescue. Frankly you're all a liability." John's tone was gentle, sympathetic though his words were harsh. He had developed quite a knack for delivering bad news in a way that enabled people to accept it. It wasn't often that he had to use it on his brothers though.

Scott still looked dizzy, Alan was half asleep, Gordon looked like he might be sick at any second and Virgil seemed to be having trouble with his concentration. They shared a look that said 'I hate it when he's right.'

"When was the last time you flew – not a simulation." Scott asked, clearly not convinced despite the obvious ill health of the others.

"Not recently enough to think that this will be easy, but there are no other options." John's voice was steady, despite the fact they were discussing his own short-comings.

"I take it you were thinking of using Two?" Virgil had at last caught up "have you ever even used some of the equipment in there?"

"And a mission alone. That's really not smart John" That was Gordon, chipping in.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her Virgil. And I won't be alone: I'll have you lot just a comm link away."

The tension between the holo-brother and flesh-and-blood-brothers was palpable. It was not unusual for the team to disagree on the finer points of a rescue, but they had never disagreed about whether to actually launch or not.

Alan, Gordon, Scott and Virgil through back and forth objections and questions. They pondered possible scenarios, bought up things that might go wrong, all the possible dangers that might be encountered.

"Enough!" John interrupted, voice strong and unwavering. "There are sixteen lives in danger. I'd really like your help on this but I'm not going to sit back and do nothing. And if it came to it there's nothing you can do to stop me. If any of you could walk to the hanger without needing a rest I'd love to have you along, but we have to work with what we've got."

John was not suggesting this for the glory of completing a solo mission – none of them really had that frame of mind, though there was no doubting the sense of achievement when they were successful. International Rescue was founded on the precepts of helping those that no-one else could, of saving the lives others thought lost. It was this reminder of what was at stake - 16 miners, 16 families on the verge of being split apart as the Tracy's had been – that brought the brother's disparate viewpoints back in line with each other.

As the eldest it was Scott that made the decision – he always seemed to bear the brunt of tough choices like these. "We'll help you John." He said "What do you need from us?"

* * *

 _ **So what do you think so far? How do you think John will manage? Reviews and comments always welcome as they give me a happy!**_

 _ **I have large chunks of the rest of this already written, but I am having a little trouble with the POV: I think I have it just where I want it, but then I realise it's actually wondered off and is looking over someone else's shoulder. *sigh* Once I have that pined down I will get the next few parts posted. Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2

So it was decided – John was going to pilot Thunderbird 2 on a rescue. Though there had been a lot of discussion though that wasn't necessarily a problem. Sure the brothers could get fairly territorial about who was at the helm of the various craft, but they knew better than to value their pride over lives that were at risk. Were there worries about John's …. capability? Sure, and John would admit that as he was the one that got the least 'hands on' work he was at a disadvantage. But that wasn't really the problem either. The problem wasn't that he was going to pilot an unfamiliar craft into a dangerous situation that he might not be capable of handling. The problem was that he was going to be doing it alone. They would never usually send just one person on a mission of this type, would always have someone standing by as backup: it was just too dangerous to consider anything else. But this time there would be no backup – everyone who was capable of going would already be there. So this time 'solo mission' really meant 'solo mission'. And solo missions were always the most dangerous.

The island confined Tracy's waited impatiently for John to descend in the space elevator and make his way to Thunderbird 2's hanger. He had decided not to route through the main room to try and avoid the virus that was still gripping them as much as possible. He was probably going to catch it anyway, but taking precautions had been drilled into them all.

Oh he was going to catch it all right, and he was probably going to catch it hard. John didn't always catch a bug or illness that went around the family, but when he did he got it worse than anyone. It had always been that way, even when they were children. What the others could shrug off could confine John to bed. What put the others in bed had once put John in the hospital. Since the formation of International Rescue Brains had worked out a vaccination plan for John, as the time he spent isolated in space had lowered his immunity to some of the more common bugs that went round. All they could hope for is that the strains he had been immunised against were similar enough to the current virus that he would get off lightly and only suffer the same as the others.

John entered the hanger and was surprised to see Virgil standing in front of the giant green machine, arms crossed and wearing a medical face mask.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to get too close, trying to keep you germ free." Virgil said even as John registered his presence.

"It's much appreciated, but I'm surprised you were able to make it down here in the first place." Just because Virgil was sick didn't mean that he would be let off a gentle ribbing.

"Thought I would load her up for you – you've got the Mole plus a range of cool accessories that I thought might be useful." John then understood – this type of mission was usually Virgil's so he wasn't leaving it to dreadful chance that John would overlook to take some vital piece of equipment. This was Virgil doing his best to keep his brother safe.

"Thanks Virgil, I'll take good care of your toys. Is there anything I should know?"

"It pulls a little to the left. And the accelerator can be a bit sticky so take it easy."

"Got it" The two exchanged professional nods.

Virgil turned and began to make his way slowly back up the stairs, his fatigue obvious in his slow pace and unsteady steps. He called back over his shoulder, the hint of a smile on his face. "And don't adjust my seat – I've got it right where I want it."

John's face appeared as a hologram from Thunderbird 2's cockpit and he could be seen completing the system checks.

'Preflight checks complete, Thunderbird 2 is.."

"Wait John." Virgil said urgently. "I forgot to say, if you scratch my machine you will have to further than orbit to be safe."

"Don't worry Virgil she'll be safe. Thunderbird 2 is go."

The flight was smooth enough after the initial adrenaline rush of take off and he had ironed out a couple of small... issues.

"Virgil, should I be worried that your check engine light has just come on." John was concerned as this seemed a very basic system fault, and something that wouldn't usually go unnoticed.

"Naw, it always does that."

"You sure?" Virgil's relaxed tone had done nothing to reassure John as it crackled over the radio.

"It's a loose connection in the panel. I check the engine after every flight and there's nothing wrong but the light still cones on. Give it a whack if it annoys you but it'll be back in half hour or so."

"If you're sure that it's not going to explode me in mid-flight."

John guided the machine into a standard flight pattern and focused on getting to the rescue zone safely. He knew he'd never hear the end of it if he got into trouble on the way. He had had to adjust the chair to accommodate his longer-than-Virgil's legs, but he was hoping he'd be able to put it right back so he'd never know.

"I'm ten minutes out, can someone give me an update?"

"Nothing really to update." Scot was taking point in communicating with John.

"Any more earthquakes?"

"No, but there's been two aftershocks in the last hour."

Before he had left Thunderbird 5 John had rerouted a large proportion on the satellite's controls and instruments directly to the island. It wouldn't be as responsive as usual – there was a reason that Thunderbird 5 was manned after all – and there would be the inevitable delays as exhausted hands manipulated unfamiliar displays. But there should be almost no difference as to when John was at the helm. Almost.

"That's the sort of information I need guys. I've identified the most stable area – setting down now."

John was starting to get nervous: he was well aware how exposed he was going to be over the next few hours, and he needed his brothers to be on the ball. If they couldn't all be awake and alert at the same time they were going to have to work out some sort of rota. The last thing John wanted was to need something urgently and find them all passed out or delirious.

"I don't like the look of that ground John, the tremors seem to be making the whole area unstable. Is there any way we can run some simulations as to what would happen if there are more quakes?" Scott, thinking ahead.

 _Good._ Thought John to himself. He hadn't come up with a way to express his concern about _their_ ability to do this without being really insulting, but maybe they had got it. He had to have faith in them like they did in him.

"I've got a few programmes like that – they're in a folder named 'predictive algorithms' funnily enough" John couldn't spare much more concertation than that, focused as he was on safely landing.

"Don't be smart"

"Like I could be anything but. Thunderbird Two has landed. Heading to the pod now." John said as he unhooked his safety belt and made his way down to the pod bay.

John had never had much cause to be in Thunderbird 2, least of all on his own. He found it rather strange to be moving through the machine without Virgil at his side. Of course there were traces of Virgil all over if you knew what to look for. There were the chalk marks on some of the internal panels – Virgil used those to keep track of his maintenance schedule. He spotted a music played stashed in one of the storage nets. _When the hell did he ever have time to listen to music?_ He reached the pod and started going through some of the equipment stored at the entrance – Virgil's touch obvious in it's neat but efficient storage. People said that dogs looked like their owners, but John believed that the Thunderbirds had begun to reflect their pilots. _I wonder what Tunderbird_ _5 would say about me?_ He mused adding a couple of grappling hooks and a pair of heavy gloves to his belt.

"I've run your earthquake prediction programme John and it's not good" This was Gordon, who had obviously been working in the background.

"In what way?"

"Based on data from the last ten years you can expect aftershocks in the area for the next twelve hours. Due to the nature of the geology the rock is likely to... well some of these graphics look like swiss cheese. They'll be cavities, sink holes, cracks and chasms."

"Fantastic" John added a third grapple to his belt.

"And depending on the level of the water table there may also be a build up of methane."

"Great – what's the water table looking like?"

A pause.

"Prepare for methane."

John picked up an oxygen tank and helmet. "Anything else?"

"You need more?"

"Just trying to be prepared." He said as he made his way to the centre of the pod and the powerful drilling machine that was secured there.

"John, are you sure about this. This is way more dangerous than it first appeared, and I really don't like the thought of you facing this alone." Scott was back, his desire to see the people in danger safe clearly at odds with his concern for his brother.

"Are the miners still trapped?" John didn't wait for an answer "then I'm still going."

"Just be careful then John" Scott said quietly, hammering home how alone he was on this one.

John paused at the step to the Mole. Opening the door had already triggered the lights to come on and he could see the display screens and command console also lighting up. Looking to the right he could see the area which sometimes was used to store extra equipment, but would hopefuly soon contain 16 rescuees.

"FAB"

* * *

 _ **I've sorted out my pov issues, a bit at least. Let me know what you think. I have had a slight diversion into writing in another area, which I think helped.**_

 _ **Also, how many of you thought this was going to be about Gordon? I didn't realise it might be a bit... misleading until I came back to it. Sorry about that if you are disappointed. As always hit me up with reviews if you like *waves at readers and reviewers alike***_


	3. Chapter 3

John had been travelling for at least an hour before he encountered the first blockage in the tunnel. He had decided to follow the pre-existing route already excavated as far as possible, thinking it might save time. So far he had been right, but it would really depend on how many cave-ins like this there had already been.

"OK, my route is now blocked." He reported to his brothers "Can you tell me how deep it is?" Instead of open tunnel he was looking at a more-or-less solid wall made up of large boulders: clearly the ceiling had collapsed in this area. John didn't think much of the mining company's safety procedures that he had encountered this sort of damage so soon, and it didn't bode well for the rest of the mission.

Alan had been trying to map the area, so they had the information ready at their fingertips the moment John might need it, but he wasn't having much luck. "We're having some problems with that actually John, some of the readings seem way off and it seems to be throwing the calculations out. For example we know you are not 20 miles deep right now. The rock isn't what we're expecting. This geological survey data must be wrong."

"That definitely isn't right. Would a sample help?"

"It sure would." Alan sounded abashed that he hadn't thought of that. "Just be careful. I hate not knowing what's going on down there."

John gave a small sigh, trying not to be heard over the comms. "The Mole has several exterior cameras you know. Access the main systems but select view and not override - I'd still like to be able to steer thank you – and you should be able to view the camera feed."

John undid his seat belt and fished a couple of sample jars from one of the workstations. He paused before opening the door, checking the gas reading were at a safe level before stepping out.

The tunnel was lit only by the Mole's exterior lights, the lighting provided by the mining company having been knocked out during the earthquake – another sign of dubious safety practices. The darkness of the tunnel stretched deep behind him: he could be one hundred meters underground or one hundred miles and that absolute blackness would look the same. The air was still, stiller even than that on Thunderbird 5. It smelt faintly stale, but also damp so John knew the water table couldn't be too far away. He hoped that wouldn't cause any more problems, the last thing he needed was to deal with these tunnels flooding as well.

He turned to wave at one of the cameras, certain that his brothers could now see him. He hoped that this made them feel better: strangely it was helping John to know that his family was watching out for him.

"Collecting samples now. This first one is from the wall of the tunnel. Then I'll take a sample from the debris that has fallen to make a comparison."

It was quite easy to collect the first sample: a bit if scraping and a small chunk of rock was safely sealed in it's own private little capsule, and stored in John's belt.

John moved to the collapsed end of the tunnel to collect his second sample, kneeling down to inspect the debris.

"This stuff is much harder guys, I'm having difficulty breaking off a chunk" John hammered at the rock in front of him.

"Isn't there any little pieces just hanging around you can pick up?"

"Sure, but I don't know if they are from the collapse or were here already, and I don't want to waste time getting multiple samples." Alan was trying to be helpful, but didn't have a grasp of the entire situation. He sounded like he needed sleep as well.

 _Please take care of yourselves guys, I can't be worrying about you right now._

It took quite a bit more hammering and some muttering from John before the second sample was stowed, and he stood to return to his ride.

"John! Detecting another aftershock! Get back to the Mole!" Scott commanded, having been alerted to the danger by the relays of information from Thunderbird 5.

But it was too late – the ground was already shaking, throwing John off balance. Too far away from the cave wall to steady himself, he was flung to his knees. Pebbles rained down upon him and dust covered him making him cough.

"Get to safety!"

"I'm …. trying...I ….. can't..." He choked out.

The rumbles continued and rocks continued to fall. The earth was trembling and the cave floor seemed to be bucking underneath him. John had never really liked rollercoasters and this was like the worse ride he could imagine. John knew that he wasn't safe in this tunnel, considering that it was already damaged but it was all he could do to stay on his knees and avoid being thrown to the ground completely. There was no way he was going to be able to make it back to the Mole. He squeezed his eyes shut against the dust and tried to ride it out.

Now that they had the camera feed from the Mole as well as the audio from John's comms the island had been able to see exactly what John had been up to when he left the machine. They had decided to take manning the comms in turns when it became obvious that they were never all going to stay awake for the entirety of the mission. Virgil and Alan had been just settling down to sleep when the aftershock hit, which of course interrupted their well intentioned plans.

So it was that all four brothers they were now witness as John was forced to his knees by the strength of the tremor. They shared concerned looks as they heard the sound of rocks bouncing over the comms and visibility decreased due to the dust. The earth gave one last shake and stopped. The sound of John's heavy breathing came loud over the radio: clearly the experience had been adrenaline inducing.

"Is... is that it?" John asked sounding a little shaky.

Scott glanced at the displays in front of him.

"Looks like it. Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just a little..."

But John didn't get to finish his sentence. Though the aftershock had finished clearly it had weakened the already damaged tunnel, and one last shower of rocks fell, hitting John burying him beneath the dust.

* * *

 _ **Dun Dun Duuuuuuuun!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**I am holiday this week so no real writing for me. I guess it's lucky that I wrote this before I went away then isn't it! :) As ever, reviews make my day so go at it if you like!**_

* * *

Panic was an unusual emotion for the operatives of International Rescue to show. They were usually the ones who calmed the panic, soothed the worry. But now, with fevers still high and good judgement lacking, panic was indeed gripping Tracy Island. After all, the one who usually steadied _them_ was the one currently buried alive in a mine. Hopefully alive. They were all speaking at once, cutting each other, getting in each others way and it was difficult to tell who was saying what as they processed what they had just seen.

"John!"

"Speak to me!"

"Can you hear me?"

"What are the readings on his suit?"

"I don't know, I don't know how to work this thing."

"John?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Find the scanner systems."

"John?"

"Come _in_ John."

"I've found his suit information!"

"What does it say?"

"Nothing."

That last word – they weren't even sure which one of them said it – silenced them. The implications of that being too much to take in in that moment.

Panic was certainly not an alien feeling for Scott. He felt it often when his brothers were in danger, or when the rush of his own adrenaline could no longer keep him moving. What he usually excelled at however was hiding it. He had crafted a flawless persona of someone always in control, always confident and always certain because that is what the others needed to see. He was careful not to let that person out too often when he was off duty as that person wasn't very fun to be around, but when he was International Rescue he prided himself on being cool at all times. The others knew it was a mask he had to wear to do his job – they all had their own ways to cope after all.

But now Scott was sure he was showing his fear. He didn't really worry much about John, usually safely tucked away on Thunderbird 5, as it was the youngest two brothers that caused most of his stress. But not today. He stared at the camera feed, trying desperately to see any movement but there was only dust floating in the air. Scott felt his heart pounding, racing. His vision was beginning to darken round the edges. _Was this what a panic attack felt like?_ He wondered to himself. He'd never had one of those before. Of course he'd never tried to direct a mission with a raging fever and only two hours of decent sleep either.

He lowered his head to his hands. He didn't want to look up and see his brothers – hearts as crushed as John was. How could he have let him go alone? How had he failed John so badly?

In that moment Scott was willing to abandon the core of International Rescue: no number of lives were worth as much as a single one of his brothers. He would trade anything to get him back.

Stillness had followed the silence that consumed the four Tracy's. The feverish – ha! In more ways than one - activity of just a few moments ago was gone, gone as fast as their brother was taken from them. Scott began to feel tears gather and a huge knot form in his chest.

It was only because of this silence that they were able to hear the faint coughing over the comms.

"John? Is that you?" "John?" "John!" Virgil, Gordon and Alan spoke all on top of one another but Scott was frozen as he listened.

More coughing then a raspy voice answered "One at... a time …...please guys."

Relief poured into Scott's weary body. His chest loosened and his vision cleared as he lifted his head. Was that really him?

"Are you ok? Are you hurt? Your suit has gone dark." Scott knew his voice was rough and unsteady but right now he didn't care. For a few terrifying heartbeats Scott thought he had lost his brother: the shift in reality from having four brothers to only having three, to having four again was too much for him.

"Arrgh, …...great, I'll have a look at …...that in a minute" Each pause was punctuated by a gasp and a cough, and Scott could almost feel the dust in his own throat. _What was wrong with him._

Now that a few minutes has past and the air was clearing the cameras from the Mole were able to pick up the movement of their brother getting unsteadily to his feet, still coughing. John was alive, he really was. _Come on Scott, get a grip, don't fall apart._ But he couldn't seem to help it. As he watched John make his way slowly back to the Mole trying to brush dust from his hair he felt the tears finally spill and he started shaking.

Virgil had noticed the state he was in – though he didn't look much better – and threw a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"He's ok" Virgil whispered "and you need something to take your fever down again, you're burning up." That explained it, that was why Scott wasn't in control. He could believe that lie. In the confusion of the aftershock Scott had managed to forget that he was also sick so it came as a relief remember why his emotions were being trampled and upended.

MAX had trundled over to him bringing a bottle of pills and glass of water.

"Thanks MAX" Scott threw a couple of pills down his throat and immediately began to feel a little calmer. That must be placebo rather than the drugs, or maybe the glass of cold water, but Scott wasn't going to question it right now. His tension didn't lesson till John was back in the drilling machine, the door secured behind him. Then Scott sat back and exhaled heavily.

"I'm putting the samples …...in the analyser, have a look at them while I …...check out the suit would …...you?" John said grunting slightly in pain.

"Screw the suit, check yourself out, you sound hurt. John, I'm serious, you're the priority here" Scott demanded of his brother.

"I'll do both at the... same time. Happy?"

Gordon was at the control panel and had managed to access the Mole's internal cameras as well. They could now see as John moved around the small work station in the Mole. He eased himself out of the top half of his suit, so he could inspect the damage and tapped a few buttons on the screen in front of him. It seemed like it must be straight forward as he only took a brief look. As important as a functioning suit was Scott was a lot more concerned with the large bruise that he could already see forming on his brother's back, between his shoulder blades.

"My suit's transmitter is off line – looks like a piece of the ceiling …...hit it square on. It will need to be completely replaced. And before you start I've run a scan on myself – a few bruises... that will ache in the morning, and I think I inhaled quite a lot of dust but nothing serious."

"That's good to hear" Scott wasn't entirely sure that John was going to have to wait to feel those bruises, so couldn't help but ask "Are you ok to go on?"

"Of course, how are you doing with those samples?" John was strictly business and made Scott inordinately proud that one of them at least was keeping it together. More than one in fact, as he could see that while Scott had been working his way back from a panic attack Alan had been running an analysis programme.

"It's strange, it seems the density of the rock has undergone several changes – first to something much more brittle which may have caused the cave in in the first place, now to something much more dense."

"Is that possible? That doesn't seem possible." None of them were geologists, but the nature of the job demanded that they have a pretty good basic knowledge of many areas of science, and this wasn't what anyone was expecting.

"No, that shouldn't be possible. Any idea what they're doing here?"

"Before I came down I tried to find out specifically what …... they are mining, but I came up with nothing but evasion and misdirection." Scott didn't need to see his face to know John was frowning – his didn't like not knowing things.

"We'll put that question on hold for the moment, but it means you will just have to be even more careful John." Scott was unimpressed at this unexpected turn, and if he had been feeling better he would have put in a call right now to the mining corporation to demand answers. However right now he just didn't feel up to dealing with the lies he no doubt would encounter. Alan had continued to study the information and gave them his worrying conclusion.

"I think we may have another slight problem as well. It looks like the density of that rock is now going to give even the Mole difficulty. You're not going to be able to get through that rock fall."

For a moment Scott thought John was going to have to turn back. He felt relief that his brother would soon be safe, then guilt at his relief.

"But the surrounding rock is still unaffected by that strange change in density?" John asked.

"For now."

"Then it looks like I'm going off track. Plot me a route direct to the miners, avoiding any known obstructions. The Mole can start doing what she's best at." But of course John wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Working on it." Alan bent he head to the display in front of him.

"This is getting much more dangerous John, you're risking too much." Scott's thoughts were still with his brother and his safety.

"Only what I have to."

John was putting his suit back on, trying to be careful of his bruised back, his cough reducing as the dust cleared from his lungs, and he moved back to sit in the control seat.

"Damn it, you're stubborn." Scott gave in. It wasn't like he was going to be able to do anything to stop him anyway. He saw Alan look up, his work obviously done as he gave Scott a nod. There were lot's of reason to be proud of his brothers today. "Alan's got your route, you should be at the miners location in an hour."

"Good job guys. Starting to dig now. And look, I'm sorry that I scared you back there. But you all sound rough as shit and I could do without you all losing it when I need you. So please, get some rest."

"We're fine John" Scott protested.

"No you're not. How many times have you had to tell me to go take a nap when I've been manning the comms for you for too long? I know the timescale isn't the same, but it might as well be being as you are all ill. Right now I'm you and you're me, and this is you telling me to get. Some. Rest."

Scott couldn't help but smile at John's logic. He was right as ever, he needed them on top form – or as top as they were going to get – for the next stage of this mission. He took in his brother's pale complexions and worried looks. It was time to leave John to take care of himself while he took care of the others. He didn't think they were going to be able to keep to their rest schedule now, not with that close call. They only had an hour and Scott was going to make sure they used every second of it.


	5. Chapter 5

John powered up the drill, checked his course and began. Another first for him: he had never used the Mole for its primary purpose, but he knew the theory well enough. At the right angle he could cut through any impediment like butter. Or so they had thought. The mining company was going to have some questions to answer, particularly if their dodgy practices and shady operations had put anyone in danger.

Lights were green across the board and John sat back, easing his shoulder. He tried not to let it show too much but he had taken more than one blow in the rockfall: several to the back and one to the head. He thought he had blacked out for several seconds rather than just being winded but that was not something he was going to share right now. His vision was clear and he didn't have any nausea, so the chances of a concussion were low. He didn't think that adding another stressor into the mix was going to do anyone any good. Strangely he had more concern for his brothers than for himself – rescues were normal, sickness was not. He hoped they were getting some rest, taking care of themselves. The panic he heard over the comms when he had come to was something totally unexpected and it scared him so he sat very carefully trying not to put too much strain on already tightening muscles and to ignore the oncoming headache.

Just when John started to think this might be going well, the engine cut out taking the lights with it and the Mole shuddered to a halt.

"No, no, no no!" He muttered. He sat for a moment in the suddenly deafening silence and the absolute dark all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

John scrabbled at a panel he knew must be on the wall, fingers frantically searching for the release, and then hands digging around inside. He tried to keep calm but it was difficult: the thought of being trapped in the silence and darkness was terrifying. At last he found what he was looking for: a flashlight. His ragged breaths started to ease a bit as the beam of light pierced the darkness.

 _What now?_ He thought to himself. Comms would be out, so there was no way to call for help. Not that there would be any coming. He would have to fix whatever was wrong on his own or there would be seventeen bodies in this mine.

 _Come on John, think._ Had there been damage to the Mole? No, he didn't think so – International Rescue equipment was much sturdier than it's operators: it would take more than a few rocks to put it out of action. Besides there had been no warning, no alerts, no sign at all. That actually helped narrow it down, for there was only one thing that would cause a shut off like that, and that was if the engine had overheated.

And while that was really really bad, there was also a good side. John clung desperately to that good side: in the event of overheating the machines would shut down to prevent circuit damage and then restart when they had cooled down enough. So all he had to do was wait.

He thought of himself as a patient man. He knew that some things couldn't be rushed whether it was baking a cake of writing code. He had spent hours before waiting for programmes to compile, or for telemetry to be relayed via satellite. He had spent long, long minutes waiting for a brother to tell him that they were safe after whatever crazy idea had gotton into their heads. But nothing compared to what he was going through right now. He was glad he had the flashlight.

For someone who was used to the vacuum of space this should be easy, right? He was used to being on his own in a hostile environment. This was exactly the same. Exactly the same. No different at all. In fact it was better, right? If the power went out in Thunderbird 5 he would suffocate or freeze, which wouldn't happen down here. Well if the gas levels started to rise and he ran out of oxygen he might suffocate. He wouldn't freeze though. And space was just as dark as down here, it was one of it's primary features! Except John could always look out of Five to the Earth below and see it either bathed in sunlight or the cities mapped out in streetlights. And the stars of course: they were always a constant though tiny source of comfort.

John felt panic rising. Apparently he felt much more comfortable at being cut off and adrift in space than he did trapped down here with thousands of tonnes of rock precariously balanced above him.

 _Stop that! It's not helping_ he told himself. _You just need to wait a few more minutes._ But how long did he really have before another tremor bought the roof down on his tiny safe haven? How long till he would have to accept that the engines would never be starting again? How long till he had to make the choice to start walking back to the surface? Would his flashlight last that long? Would he find his tunnel blocked? Would the ground open up and swallow him on the way?

His heart beat faster and his respiration rate started to rise. Without the Mole's systems and with his suit damaged he didn't even have a watch – he had no idea how long he had been sat in the crushing darkness with only a thin beam of light from the flashlight.

 _Focus on the beam_ he told himself. He played it across the controls in front of him, watching dust motes dance in the air. He illuminated the buttons and switches feverentley wishing they were operational. He tried to keep the beam away from the window – he didn't want to be able to see the impenetrable wall of rock in front of him: seeing that certainly wouldn't help his mental state. As he moved it round his eyes caught upon something – the edge of a piece of paper tucked behind a display.

He reached forward and pulled it out. It was a photograph, an old one from the look of the young faces staring out of it. He remembered this day. They had been trapped in the house for three days by a fierce storm, high winds and rain. They had been getting under each others feet and arguing by day two. If the storm had gone on much longer there would probably have been a fight and it was even bets as to who would start it. So once the storm front passed the whole family spent the day at the beach. They had fresh air, space to be alone and the room to run and not be in each others way. They'd sat and talked, gone swimming, walked the beach looking for interesting driftwood, explored rock pools, dozed in the sun, enjoying each others company as they hadn't been able to when they had been trapped inside.

The picture had been taken at the end of the day. The breeze had started to cool when the sun went down so here they were all five wrapped in blankets and piled in close to each other, faces slightly red from the sun, but smiling broadly. Just on the corner of the frame was an elbow – that was Dad, who hadn't been quite close to be fully included, and it was Mom who had been behind the camera. He wondered who had put this there. Probably Virgil, but it could also have been Gordon or Alan. He wondered how often his brothers pulled this out to look at the face of his family – did they do it when things were going badly? When things went well?

Either way, he was glad they had because he didn't feel so cut off any more. He took a deep breath that calmed his pounding heart. Though they were far away and silent he somehow felt close to them, felt the bonds of family that held him not just to _them_ , but held him together as well. His eyes fixed upon the faces of his brothers gave him the strength to stave off the panic attack and return to his waiting.

His patience was rewarded when with a small whine the Mole's systems restarted, lights almost blinding him as they flashed on.

"Thank you guys." He whispered as he tucked the photograph back where he found it.

A look on the console and the auto-system diagnostics confirmed his suspicions: overheating. But how? _Of course_. They were usually robust but he hadn't factored in the different density of the dust that must have clogged the intake. _Damn_. He was surprised that he didn't have any yelling coming over the radio, demanding to know what was going on. He brought up a small screen on the display in front of him: it gave him a view of the couch area on Tracy Island and the four piles of blankets made up of his sleeping brothers.

He would be able to start digging again now, but the engines would just overheat again if he didn't clear the intakes. He didn't particularly want to go back out there but neither did he want to be stopping and starting the whole way to the miners and back. It was probably just as well the others weren't awake: he could do without them distracting him while he did this.

He slid open side door to exit the machine – he had just enough room between the cave wall and the Mole to reach the back where the intakes are. Just enough he if he did a crab-like sidestep and took his helmet off. That probably wasn't wise, considering the possibility of methane that had been mentioned earlier but he didn't have a choice. With the tools he needed at his belt he slipped out and made his way slowly to the rear of the drill.

It took some manoeuvring and John was careful not to look into the utter darkness behind him, but he reached the heat extractors.

"Yep, that's the problem" he said, seeing them caked with a thick layer of dust. In all it took about twenty minutes to not only clear the outside, but take off the outer cover to clear the inside and reassemble each of the four major intakes. He just cleared the external parts of the minor intakes as they would be much more difficult to dismantle. Besides, his headache was now getting much worse and he was starting to have trouble concentrating, so it was time to go back in and take some pain relief.

He was just securing the last of his tools – Virgil would kick his arse if he left anything behind – when he heard the faint buzz and beep of an alarm. Instinctively he looked at the arm of his suit to bring up the relevant readout, but of course his suit was not working. His vision blurred slightly. _Ah, that may be the gas alarm._ He didn't feel too concerned, which somewhere in the back of his head _did_ worry him as it was clear he was already being affected. How long had the gas levels been rising? How high were they right now? How much danger was he in? Questions he didn't have answers to.

With his head pounding he made his way back into the Mole hands shaking, barely able to grip on to the handles. He sealed the door behind him and immediately went for the emergency oxygen supply, holding the mask against his face. Within a few minutes the alarms stopped – gas levels decreasing again - and his head cleared enough that he took the mask off.

He was just putting the oxygen back when a voice crackled over the radio.

"John, are you ok? Why do the readouts say the engines have been off? And you've been outside? Was that an oxygen mask? Why did you need that?" Scott was awake again.

"Everything's under control Scott." John reassured him.

"Exactly _what_ is under control?" Ah. Maybe John hadn't been that reassuring then. "Give me an update please little brother."

"Just a little issue with the engine overheating due to clogged intakes. They're all clear now. And the gas alarm went off so I took some O2 as a precaution."

"You went out there without letting us know? And why did you need oxygen, what's wrong with your helmet?" Scott was sounding distressed, anxious and angry – an interesting combination. The four younger Tracys usually took their cues from Scott, mostly unconsciously. Scott's current mood would do nothing for their collective blood pressure, so John tried to alleviate the tension with a bit of humour.

"Nothings wrong with it, I just wouldn't fit with it on, it's quite cramped down here you know."

"So no power, no comms, no helmet, risk of gas and cave in and you thought it was an ideal time for a stroll?" Maybe the humour was misplaced at that - it was always more Gordon's bag anyway.

"Now don't start Scott..."

"Don't start? OK, if we're doing role reversal here why don't you have a think about what _you'd_ be saying if one of _us_ had pulled that stunt." The anxiety had passed and Scott was clearly now going for full blown anger.

John sighed. "I'd be chewing you out for taking such a risk."

"Exactly."

"And then you'd ignore me, and tell me you were only doing what was necessary. Then we'd get on with saving the day and probably argue about it later." John took the wind out of Scott's sails and the heat out of his anger but presenting the facts – he was always good at presenting facts and making Scott pause long enough to consider them.

John once again began the start up procedures for the drill.

"Fine, later."

"ETA to rescue location, 20 minutes."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Waves to the readers, follows and reviewers - thank you soooo much: I'm really glad that you keep coming back!**_

* * *

"Damn it" Scott muttered as John started the Mole forward. "Why is he so bloody stubborn and why did he have to go and do something so stupid?"

"Because he's a Tracy." Virgil suggested with a raised eyebrow "and because he's a Tracy. It's kinda our trademark."

Scott gave a derisive snort at that. If that's what they thought then maybe they all needed to have a chat about how the organisation was meant to operate. How often did the others take big chances? How long would they continue to get away with it? He'd have to have a talk with them at some point about the risks they took, but he let it slide for now: he wasn't going to be the hypocrite today.

Scott had been the first to wake – the beeping alarm from the Mole finally piercing his sleep sodden mind. He had bundled everyone up with blankets and hot water bottles to try and ensure they got us much rest as possible while John was drilling into the earth. The others weren't far behind in waking, particularly following his ….. discussion with John. MAX was doing the rounds once more with rehydrating drinks and multiple small capsules: probably a custom concoction of pain relief, antiemetics, something to reduce fever and a mild stimulant. Scott knocked his back gratefully as the others crawled out their blankets, and moved to study the data that had been collected while they slept. He was feeling better, but considering what John had been up to while they had been out cold it may have been a mistake.

"Looks like there have been no further aftershocks and John is right on course if a bit behind schedule. What were you yelling at him about?" Alan asked.

"I wasn't yelling. And I don't really know, he was very evasive. I will be asking about it later though."

"Rather him than me." Scott pretended not to hear that.

"You might want to slow a bit John, you're nearly at the chamber where we think the miners are trapped." Gordon updated.

"FAB. Continuing at half RPM"

A tense few minutes passed and then the sound of the giant drill changed as it encountered less rock and more air.

"And I'm through. Locating the miners now. Ah." John sounded surprised and troubled – more problems were not what this mission needed. Scott's heart sank.

"What now?"

"We have a slight issue. I can see the miners approximately one hundred feet away." John was moving the Mole's exterior cameras so that his brothers could see what he did "But at least fifty foot of that is chasm."

"It must have opened up in the quake. It's not on our scans so we can't tell how deep it is." Alan was getting good at managing all the data readouts, but he seemed disappointed at having an incomplete picture. Scott would need to have a chat with him about working with the limits of their technology. Later.

"What do I do now guys? Do I go around?" John asked, trusting the assessment of the situation to the ones who had the information at their somewhat groggy fingertips.

"No that will be too dangerous, the whole area's probably unstable." Scott advised. He was worried about this most recent development and was really starting to doubt in the success of this mission.

"Is there anything in the Mole that will bridge the gap?" John was not too proud to ask his brothers for help when they had the expertise he needed. Scott thought it must feel strange not to be the one with all the knowledge this time and have to look to others. Scott himself didn't like being kept out of the loop, but that must pale beside how John felt.

"Noooo." Virgil's reply was drawn out "Not as such. John, did you bring any grapple hooks with you?"

"Yes, I did. Ah Virgil, come on, surely you're not suggesting that." John was quick on the uptake it seemed, but the others were lagging behind. Scott hadn't felt like his mind was clear for days now and he was getting tired of having this much trouble thinking.

"What? Fill us in here!" He asked, exasperated at his own failing as much as the cryptic conversation going on around him.

"John can fire a grapple across the gap, and secure the other end to the Mole. Then he can get everyone to safety over the line without having to get the Mole across that rift."

"I hate this idea." John complained, but Scott could tell he was already moving: checking his equipment in readiness.

"Feel free to come up with something better."

"I didn't say it was a bad idea, just that I hated it."

"Right of course, sorry to have been confused." Virgil's tone was not as snappy as his words and the result was humorous rather than insulting.

Scott watched John climb out of the Mole, moving from the view of the internal cameras to in front of the exterior ones. He saw John carefully aim then fire the hook into the cave wall on the far side of the chasm, then attach the other side the drill. He attached a powered pully to the line, and then waved to get the attention of the miners who had gathered to watch as soon as their rescuer arrived.

It was clear what John wanted them to do, but it was equally clear that the miners were having none of it. They couldn't hear whatever the stranded workers were saying so only had John's responses, but it wasn't going well.

Finally John gave a sigh. "Fine." He yelled out, then he spoke quieter, to his brother only. "They won't come over, don't trust it apparently. So I'm going to go over to them first to prove it safe. Though staying where they are isn't exactly safe either right now"

"If you have no other choice, the grapple's firmly attached right?" Scott was not going to pretend to like the thought of his brother dangling above a who-knows-how-deep abyss.

"Of course. Do me a favour though would you. Can you take a closer look at the group – there are two that don't really look like miners and I've had enough surprises for one day." John was hooking himself to the pully and was soon soaring over to the stranded.

Scott zoomed into the cluster of scared people, and immediately saw what John was talking about. Fourteen were outfitted in sturdy workwear suitable for heavy work. Two were not - instead dressed more as if they were out for coffee. Or at the office.

Once again Scott was relegated to position of watcher, something he was finding really didn't suit him. He was too fired up to calmly look at the data streams in front of him, watching the movements of his brother through cameras rather than in person was making him anxious and we was aching to get out there and _do_ something. Knowing that wasn't possible he started a facial recognition scan on the two dressed completely inappropriately for their environment, and wasn't pleased with what he found.

The first miner was arriving at the Mole, John having instructed them on how to send the pully back for the next person. Gordon was then directing them over the speaker system "Good afternoon, please enter the vehicle and take a seat. The fasten seatbelt sign is now on so please make sure you buckle up. Unfortunately there is no inflight entertainment service so you will have to amuse yourself for a few moments." Gordon always had been a people person and used a brilliant blend of humour and confidence to calm others.

"Jeez, who is this guy?" John was muttering into his comms, clearly trying not to be heard y those standing near him. "He keeps shouting at me about the importance of his research and how I absolutely must save it. "

"We're about the people not the things." Scott reminded John. Of all of them John was the one who was most likely to be swayed by that sort of argument – John loved knowledge for it's own sake and wouldn't want any to be lost.

"Don't worry Scott, I'm not going to be down here any longer than I have to. But if he spent a little less time shouting and more time backing up his data then maybe there wouldn't be an issue."

"Be careful of him John, I've pulled up his academic history – it looks like he's a professor who has been removed from more than one research post for unethical experiments. Did he say what he was doing down there?"

"No, he's been tight lipped about that at least."

"Considering his record and what you've encountered down here, I'm willing to bet he's not meant to be doing what ever it is." Scott frowned.

"I'm not going to take that bet. His research assistant seems a little better, I might see if I can get him to talk on the journey back." There is was, Johns desire to know things. Scott managed a small smile. Even at the bottom of a mine where there could be a cave in at any moment John still had half a mind on learning something new.

While they had been talking the recuse had been going smoothly: miners zooming down the rope one at a time. There were now ten people safely strapped in to the back of the Mole.

"Just a few more to go... hang on..." A heartfelt sigh. "I think he's going to yell at me again."

John had muted his comm, something they very rarely did. Usually it was to hold a private conversation or save someone from embarrassment. This time it might be to spear the weary brothers from the tirade of abuse that John would now be facing. Scott suspected that John often made himself a barrier to protect the others from hot heads.

The comm flicked back on.

"No, you go now! You're the last ones, you are getting yourself over to safety or I am leaving without you or your research."

"Well, that got them moving at least." Scott said as he watched the dubious professor secure himself into the safety harness.

"Yeah, I was beginning to think I might have to leave them here though. It might be no great loss."

"John!" Scott knew that John would never leave anyone behind, but his tone showed none of his usually caring temperament. This professor must have really got under his skin.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. But he is the most obnoxious, arrogant, condescending person I've ever met. He talked to me like I was delivering his pizza and I got the order wrong. That's the last of them, they all inside?"

"Yep, Gordon's keeping an eye on them."

"Gordon? I almost feel sorry for them. Going over now."

Scott was the watcher but he didn't have the experience or the equipment that John usually did. He and the others still had brains fogged with sleep and drugs so they didn't think to check. Back aching and keen to get this over with John didn't check his equipment at thoroughly as any of the others might have done. Maybe any one of them could have prevented it if they had all been a little more awake, a little less distracted. Whatever the reason none of them saw that the grapple had come loose from the cave wall. No one noticed until the line gave way. Unfortunately John way was half way across when it detached, and Scott was alerted by his brothers yell.

"John!" What is it?"

"Guys" Alan's eyes were wide with fear. "The... the line... it's dropped!"

"No, please."

Lesson learned from earlier they made themselves keep quiet, distress still showing in the glances they darted to each other and the hands that clutched at blankets or clothes.

"John, are you OK?" _Please reply_ Scott begged silently. They had no idea how deep that crack was – it could have been twenty feet or two hundred. They had no idea how badly hurt John could be right now.

"I'm ….. here … guys. I got... another... grapple into the... ceiling."

Scott gave a deep breath out, a breath he hadn't realised that he had been holding. That was some excellent quick thinking from John – coming up and executing a plan while falling. He imagined his brother was now holding desperately to a steel cable, fingers numb from gripping, dangling above an uncertain depth.

"Are you ok?" He question was urgent.

"You're saying that... a lot. Do you think you could ...ask that a little less? It's distracting."

"Do you think you could give me cause to ask it a little less?"

"Working on... it."

"Talk to us John, how far down are you? Can you see the bottom?" Scott was bake to business. Levity was essential sometimes to ensure they weren't overwhelmed by the nature of their work but this was no time for witty banter.

"Maybe... thirty feet. I'm hanging on. I think there is….. no bottom."

"You'd better get climbing then hadn't you."

There was no response from John, just a series of grunts obviously trying to put Scott's suggestion into action. This would be very different physically from anything John usually had to do, being used to the reduced gravity of Thunderbird Five. Out of the corner of his eye Scott saw Gordon frown at the display in front of him that showed the inside of the Mole.

"Can I remind all passengers that they need to be **SAT DOWN** and **STRAPPED IN** or we won't be getting any drive though on the way home. That means you."

"Problem Gordon?"

"I think it's that scientist guy, John was right, he's an arse. Hey! Get away from there!"

Scott was alarmed at the anger in Gordon's voice as it took a lot to rile his younger brother. It had been a long afternoon and he was fed up with not knowing what was going on. He was about to demand a report but Gordon beat him too it: apparently they knew his signs of frustration well and also knew how to head him off.

"That absolute twit tried to start the Mole and leave John behind! Don't worry, I took control of the systems, he's not going anywhere."

Scott felt a sudden fury. They were just going to drive off and leave John? Who had risked his life for them – to be abandoned at the centre of the Earth? No way was that happening while Scott was around. Luckily John interjected before Scott had a chance to say something very uncomplimentary that he probably would have regretted when he was feeling a bit better.

"Gordon... you ….. have …. control?"

"Yeah, that's right. She'll be right where you left her."

"I think... I pulled... my shoulder... when I fell. Climbing is getting... tricky. You know I said... leave the steering ….. to me? I take... that... back."

Gordon was looking blank "I've no idea what that means."

Scott knew though. His brain wasn't so far gone that this was beyond him – his recent anger must have cleared off some of the fog of illness. His brother needed him and it kick started his adrenaline. Hanging above an uncertain height, possibly hurt, in a dangerous situation John needed him and Scott knew just what to do.

"He attached the other end to the drill right? So now you have complete control of the Mole if you start up the drill in reverse it will wind the wire up, and pull John up with it, no climbing needed. You'll have to take it slow though, slow and steady. Can you do it?"

"I can do it, hang on John" Gordon's jaw was set, determined now he knew what was expected of him.

"Hanging..."

Gordon brought up the relevant interface, visibly relaxed his shoulders and started up the drill. "Easy does it" he muttered to himself. "How's that pace for you John"

"Fine... ugghhh... fine, just keep going."

"You sure John. You don't sound fine." Scott queried while Gordon concentrated.

"I'm fine... rock walls are hard... is all." Came the gasping response.

"Ain't that the truth."

"Yeah welcome to our world." Scott knew that every one of them had experienced the ungentle kiss of rock against body – just one of the hazards of the job.

"Well you can... keep it."

"You should be nearing the top now." Gordon updated.

"I can see it. Slow it down a bit more."

Scott turned his attention to the Mole exterior cameras, and saw the moment when his brother's hands appeared on the edge of the chasm and he climbed into view. John dragged himself up and over the edge, movements slow but confident: at least he didn't look too badly injured. He lay on his back for a few moments – Scott could imagine what he was feeling. The adrenaline, the relief, the ache of abused muscles, the feeling of being so alive! Scott had that feeling more times that he would admit to any of his brothers, as that would reveal how many risks he took.

He could see as John somewhat awkwardly got to his feet and pushed in to a quick jog back to the Mole.

* * *

 _ **We're nearly there, but John's not out of the woods / cave yet!**_


	7. Chapter 7

John staggered back to the Mole, moving as fast as he could. His heart had been in his mouth the whole time he had been hanging from that abyss and he was sure it would figure in his nightmares for days to come. That sickening feeling of falling, his stomach dropping to his boots as suddenly he was no longer tethered to … well …. anything. It was a bit light being weightless in space but at the same time much more terrifying.

 _Enough of that now_ he thought to himself though he still felt a bit nauseous, _time to get this lot home._

He swung himself into the open door of the Mole, noting a certain atmosphere.

"Is everyone accounted for? Everyone strapped in?" He asked his passengers, directing his query to no-one in particular. The only response he got was more grumbling from professor thinks-too-much-of-himself.

"I want to complain about that bossy young man - we would have been well underway if he hadn't shouted at me. And now nothing seems to be working." He complained. The other passengers stayed silent.

"Did I miss something?" John asked his brothers, sincerely hoping that there wasn't yet another problem with the equipment.

"Just Gordon being his usual charming self." Scott reassured. "He's handing full control back to you now."

John gave a thumbs up to the camera, hoping Gordon was watching. He had truly been in a spot of bother back there but his family had pulled through and pulled him out of it. Literally. He rolled his shoulder. Nothing torn or dislocated luckily just another ache to add to the rockfall earlier, though he didn't want to put much strain on it anytime soon. He'd had enough bumps that his whole body was aching now. He'd have a bath when he got back to the island: it would warm him up too. He started a systems check upon seeing that he did indeed have full control, and it barely took him anytime to be ready.

"I'm going back the way I came – anything to say that might not be the best ideas?" he asked the island.

"Nothing from here John."

"Good, then if there are no objections from the back let's get out of here." There was nothing from his passengers. Whatever Gordon had said must have done the job.

John started up the engine – without the need to drill he could make much better time, diverting extra power to the tracks if needed. He didn't want to hang around here any longer. He turned the rescue machine around and manoeuvred into the tunnel, carefully steering his way home.

"John, you might want to spend it up a bit – more aftershocks are coming your way."

"Got it Scott." John put his foot down, now tearing through the tunnel. If he didn't have the exact route from boring it in the first place travelling at this speed would have been incredibly dangerous. As it was he knew every twist and turn so there was no chance of driving straight into a wall.

Gradually he began to hear a rumble other than that of the engines, and heard rocks bouncing off the Mole in time to the pounding in his head that he had mostly forgotten about. The aftershocks had indeed hit and John raced them – trying to exit while his tunnel was still intact.

The minutes stretched long, but John could see the progress he was making on his display - the distance to Thunderbird 2 and safety was rapidly decreasing. The Mole rattled along rather quicker than perhaps it was designed to and it was far from the most comfortable ride, his passengers being shaken from side to side. Looking back John saw that none of them looked happy but at least they were being quiet.

At last John no longer had to rely on artificial lighting as the Mole burst into the open air. Low dull clouds covered the setting sun John welcomed the dingy sky. There had been more than one occasion than John thought he wouldn't see it again so the sight of any sort of sky at all sent a shiver of elation through him.

He started to ease up off the accelerator now they were in no danger of being crushed to death when alarms sounded from both his instruments and over the comms.

"Keep going John!" Scott came through with his most commanding voice on. The type of voice that he used for some of the most dire situations and Jthe fact that he felt he needed it worried John.

"We're detecting mores seismic activity. More than an aftershock. There is going to be another full quake. You have to leave. NOW!"

John felt his foot hit the floor. Scott didn't have to elaborate as John knew that another earthquake even half as powerful as the last, in an area riddled with tunnels and unstable geology would prove a real risk of further collapses. He'd worked so hard to get everyone out of there he was not going to lose them now! And we was not going to let himself be dragged back into the centre of the earth!

John fervently hoped that Virgil wasn't paying too much attention to what he was doing as he remote-activated Thunderbird Two, and opened up the module. There were certain …. procedures that should be followed but that was for more relaxed times. Now he disregarded everything he had ever learnt about protocol – hell, some of it had even written – and was as reckless as Gordon or Alan. He ordered the pod bay opened and revved up the slope slowing as little as possible.

John launched himself from the seat of the Mole as soon as he could – sooner than he should have really. It had barely stopped and was definitely not secured yet. He didn't have time for the formalities though, racing up to Thunderbird Two's cockpit, throwing himself into the pilot's chair and initiating system start up while retracting the pod simultaneously.

He fired the VTOL engines the moment he could, and not a moment too soon. With a roar that threatened to dwarf Two's engines the ground crumbled - rather than lifting off the ground fell from under him as he pulled hard on the machines controls.

"Something has sparked the methane!" John could barely hear Gordon's scream above the noise of air and rock colliding. And now fire was added into the mix. From far below the methane was being consumed and the resulting fire ball was racing upwards and outwards.

John banked hard, sensors and systems screaming at him. He adjusted course and sped up but Thunderbird Two was not built for acceleration, not like One was, so couldn't clear the flames. The fire surrounded him, the intense heat close to damaging sensors and blowing camera lenses. He was heaving on the controls, combating the up and down drafts that were threatening to knock him out of the sky, when the flames and smoke covered the windows.

Where a moment ago had been cloudy sky now was just tongues of burning red and yellow. He was in a furnace and he was the coal. He was flying blind. Much as he was a lover of technology he always had his own senses to rely on. No computer display or data readout could inform you of a situation as quickly as a glance from your own eyes. But now he was blind, lost in an endless swirl of red rage. _First darkness down below, now this._ He thought to himself, gritting his teeth with the effort to keep level. Now he had to trust instruments and Virgil's careful calibrations to get him out of this.

"30 degrees to your left John" Virgil's instruction over the comm, as if sensing his thought. "The wind has changed direction, you should quickly clear the fire that way."

"Thanks" John grunted, once again straining to find the right course. From the air currents that were tossing him about like a leaf in the wind he felt more like he was turning _into_ the inferno instead of away from it. He held on to the faith he had in his family. How often did they trust him when he gave some counterintuitive order? All the time. He could do this for them this once.

John kept to his course, held fast and gradually rose just ahead of the ball of fire. He could see sky again! Well clouds, but that more or less the same thing.

"Phew I'm clear! That was so close I could feel the heat off it!" John said wiping sweat from his brow as relief drenched him. Except there was no sweat. He was hot. His headache was getting worse. He was nauseas. His whole body ached.

 _Dammit, I just need a few more hours!_

He'd been so distracted by the recuse in front of him that he'd managed to forget the original problem, and why he was here in the first place.

"So, I'm going to drop off my merry sixteen and make my way back" he reported, trying to keep his voice strong. But Virgil knew his ship inside out, and wasn't going to let him get away with that earlier comment.

"Erm John, we're getting no change in temperature readings here. That fireball wasn't something you would want to be standing in the middle of but should have been in no way hot enough to penetrate Two's thermal shielding."

The situation seemed to be getting to Scott: "It's difficult to guess what's going on, and I'm too tired for this shit, talk to me please John."

John had been trying not to worry his brothers too much. He hadn't wanted them to feel as helpless as he often did. He thought that knowing about his bruises or his panic attack in the dark wouldn't have changed anything for the better, just adding to the stress that illness was already putting on their bodies. Now he considered that he might have been wrong, that being in the dark figuratively rather than literally, was doing more harm than good. And they'd find out soon enough anyway.

"I think I'm coming down with what you have. I have all the symptoms." He admitted, trying to make it sound like no big deal.

"Sheesh, why are you just telling us this?" John could hear Scott's eye roll from the slight huff of his voice.

"It has only just become apparent." John replied defensively.

"Right. And I suppose you're going to tell me that you have had _no_ symptoms up until this very moment, there's nothing you've been brushing off, nothing you haven't been telling us about?"

"Well..."

But Alan piped up – he had been at the receiving end of one of Scott's lectures often enough, and it seemed he was trying to earn some brownie points by serving as a distraction.

"Come on Scott, leave it out. You know the symptoms come on quite suddenly, and he's suits out of commission so there is no way he'd notice the earliest signs. He's on his way home now anyway."

"Ok, but make it quick John." Scott said reluctantly.

 _Brownie points well earned._ John smiled.

John made the drop-off with perhaps unseemly haste, practically hustling his passengers out at the closest company office. All offered their thanks on the way out except the so called professor – he just gave a huff and a snort and started bellowing for someone to get him a computer.

John put Thunderbird Two on autopilot for most of the flight home, at last taking some of the painkillers he had been promising himself since he had been caught in that first rock fall. By the time he arrived back at Tracy Island he was aching all over. From the illness or physical injury he couldn't tell but his muscles were protesting at each movement. Yet he still managed an ok if not perfect landing, good enough to scrape any paintwork at least.

Virgil was there to meet him in the hanger.

"See, she's still in one piece" John said as he stumbled out from the cockpit. "Maybe a bit smoky but that ash will dust right off."

"It's not her I'm worried about" Virgil said, having to quickly reach out and steady him. "A twelve hour mission, caught in a rockfall, hanging from a line, a pretty swell bit of flying and whatever happened while we were asleep as well as early symptoms of the flu? I'm here to march you straight to bed with as many drugs inside you as I can stuff down your throat."

"And here I was thinking that the great green one was your first priority." John joked lightly.

"Only when I haven't got a fool of a brother to take care of."

"Are you sure you are ok to be up and about? Last I saw, you were the one looking green around the gills." John couldn't help himself making the comparison between pilot and machine. His cutting wit was lost however, as a wave of dizzyness swept over him. He swayed slightly, clutching his head.

"Hey, are you ok to walk upstairs?"

"Yeeah, I …. I think so. The …. adrenaline must be wearing... off. Everything is hitting at once."

What a few minutes ago were minor irritations were now furious pains – his back and shoulder were screaming, his head felt like it was going to roll off, making thinking hurt. He was trembling from cold and hot at the same time and he was trying very hard not to puke on his own boots.

"Then maybe we go to medbay first," Virgil said, putting one strong arm around his waist and pointing him in the right direction.

John went unresisting. Though nothing sounded better than bed right now he just didn't have the energy to battle his brother.


	8. Chapter 8

_Some days later_

 _John ran as fast as he could but the collapsing floor was still just behind him. He tried to move faster but instead he seemed to slow and he was now just one pace from the edge. He put he head down, arms pumping as he sprinted, but now the rock was crumbling beneath his feet as he slammed them down. Panic rose. Darkness was creeping in at the sides of his vision, he couldn't see any further than about two feet in front of him. When he took his next step there was nothing there and he fell screaming into blackness just as deep below him as it was in front._

John awoke with a start. He was in the dark again, surrounded by a void. Was this where he had fallen to? No that didn't sound quite right. Earlier, when he was running, there had been no sounds. Now he heard a feint rustling like wind in the trees. His arms and chest certainly hadn't hurt like they did now. And actually, it wasn't completely dark – a sliver of light from one side was offering just enough illumination for him to work out that he was lying in a bed and there was someone by his side.

"Easy now, just another nightmare." The person said soothingly. The voice was calm, solid, reassuring but a little weary. "Let's just check your temperature again."

Something cold was placed in his ear, and he gave an involuntary flinch at the unexpected contact.

"John?" The voice said. "Are you awake?"

"I'm not sure" he croaked honestly.

"Hang on a second." The voice told him.

A moment later the room was lit by a burning sun right next to his head, causing spikes of pain to drill into his brain. He slammed his eyes shut and gave a low groan.

"Hold on, I'll turn it down a little." The sun diminished slightly. "Is that better?"

John tried again. It took a few goes before his eyes adjusted and he could see that he was not only in a bed but he was in his own bed, and illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp was a familiar face.

"Scott?"

"That's it, glad you're back with us at last."

Back? Back from where? Where had he been? Nothing was making sense.

"I don't... I don't. Where?" He felt panic start to rise in him again, just like when he was running. He tried to sit up.

That was a mistake he quickly realised. Not only did a pain explode in his head but a wave of dizzyness hit so hard he felt sick. Shoulder and chest protested as did his arms. He sunk back down with a whimper.

"Now John, don't do that. Please. I'll fill you in but it would probably be best if you stay still."

John could only nod to that. Staying still was definitely what he wanted to do.

 _"_ When you got back from your mission Virgil had you checked out – no major injuries just bumps, bruises, sprains and a few cuts."

Mission, a mine, the darkness, he shuddered. Yes that was ringing a bell.

"Then we got you here into bed. Just in time too as I think all the symptoms we had over the best part of a week you had in two days. We've had a bit of a hard time keeping up with whether you were too hot or too cold to be honest."

He could remember that, vaguely. Feeling fire and ice at the same time.

"You were vomiting for the first twelve hours, so we put an IV line in to try and get some fluids into you."

Luckily he had no memory of that, he hated being sick.

"You tore that line out at one point when you were thrashing about – the blood scared Alan - he was with you at the time – quite a bit – and you needed a couple of stiches for that. We put the line back in your other arm and secured it a bit better this time. But they are probably sore."

That would explain why one of his arms was bandaged and why he had a giant needle in the other.

"You've been yelling about being in the dark, but we could tell you were very light sensitive, so have been trying to keep it as dim in here as possible."

Typical, afraid of the dark but painful in the light, he really couldn't win.

"We were close to taking you to a hospital. I would have done yesterday if your fever hadn't started to come down."

"The others?"

"We're fine. A little quick to tire maybe, so International Rescue ad been completely shut down since you got back – it's been a week now. The GDF have just had to handle whatever is going on out there, we all need a little more time before we are ready for active duty again."

John was reassured, Scott carried on.

"There are also some investigations going on as to what those people were up to down there. And I have it on good authority that they will be very thorough investigations as well."

There was too much there, too much to process.

Scott had poured a glass of water while he had been talking which he now handed over. John managed to drink some without spilling too much, though he was ashamed at how much his hand was shaking.

"This is really pathetic." He muttered to himself as Scott took the glass away from him.

"Not pathetic, you've been ill is all."

"Did... did I do ok?" John disliked how much he sounded like a little kid just then, but the question was important to him.

Scott looked at him closely, studying his face.

"You can't be as awake as I thought or you'd know the answer to that one already. You were in a completely unfamiliar environment with machines that you aren't used to using. You dealt with several unexpected changes to the situation. You got everyone else out without injury and sustained only minor damage yourself or the equipment. And you did it all without any back up. You did a damn find job John and we're all very proud of you. Dad would be proud too."

Scott's words were like a balm to his soul.

"I did have back up though, " he muttered " you were all there for me."

"Yeah we were. That's not happening again though, I don't care what the stakes are, I'm not sending someone out alone on a job they should be accompanied on."

"Come on Scott, it wasn't that bad. And you said it yourself, no injuries." The last thing John wanted was some new stupid rule on his account.

"Really?" Scott raised a querying eyebrow and read John's mind. "It's not a stupid idea to have the right number of people for the job – anything else is just asking for trouble."

"And no doubt I'll have to remind you of that one day, when you think you can go it alone."

Scott mumbled under his breath something uncomplimentary about annoying younger brothers, but said a little louder "Let's take this IV line out shall we?" reaching for John's arm.

"Yes please." John knew that he and Scott would have an argument about this at some point in the future, about the risks they took and the choices they made. John was happy to leave that for another day though, when he was feeling more with it. After all they had been having some form of that argument for years now.

Scott gently removed the needle and replaced it with a bandage. "This doesn't mean you are allowed up yet, you need more rest. And I'll try and keep Gordon and Alan from disturbing you too much."

"Ha! Like that's likely to happen." John knew his brothers, and knew that there wasn't going to be much stopping him once they knew he was awake but his head was hurting too much for their particular brand of enthusiasm. "Give me a couple hours before you tell them? A bit of a head start?"

"Sure," Scott grinned, standing up. "Get some more sleep, everything else can wait."

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are always welcome, whatever your views :)**_


End file.
